Cough (24 page)

Stokes had a feeling. A strange one as they pulled into Littlefield. He didn’t know exactly how to pinpoint it, or what it was foretelling. The woman in Russell told them about the mandatory quarantine. They passed a caravan of military trucks full of people on the highway, and that was a frightening sight. It also struck him as odd, with the quarantine nationwide, that the barricade around the town was gone.

Everything was different from the time they hit town limits. The National Guard wasn’t there, the long line of cars blocking the access in and out of town were moved off the road. The town of Littlefield was never really bustling, after the virus hit, it was like a ghost town. But pulling to town it was even emptier. The main street had been cleaned and cleared.

Stokes spotted Dr. Harmon walking down the road. “Let’s pull over, Stokes said. Get him this stuff and I want to find Macy.”

“Sounds good,” Albert pulled over.

They stepped from the car, immediately unloading boxes.

“Hey, Doc,” Albert said. “We got a shitload of supplies.”

Dr. Harmon sighed out. “We really don’t need it.”

Stokes heard this and stopped. “What? Why?”

Then Wells appeared as he stepped from Breyer’s.

“Eugene, what’s going on?” Albert asked.

“Military came in, cleaned up our town then cleared out.” Wells paused. “They took everyone exposed and sick.”

“No.” Stokes growled his words. “No. Macy?”

“She’s gone. They took her.”

“You just let them!” Stokes blasted.

“I didn’t have a choice!”

“Do you know where they took them?”

“Not them. Her.” Wells pointed to Thomas in the background. Then Wells held up his hand. “Immune. Tagged with a white band. All those not … tagged with a red. They took her to camp 124. I checked on the information list. It’s about twenty miles north east of Vegas. But we won’t know anything for a few days.”

“The convoy,” Albert said. “We passed them on the highway. Bet she was in of those trucks of people.”

Stokes raced to the car and hurriedly, pulled the rest of the boxes out. When he finished, he opened the driver’s door.

“Where are you going?”

“Try to catch that convoy or get into camp 124. She can’t be alone. Not after losing her son.”

“Stokes,” Wells said sympathetically. “You won’t get in. It’s only for exposed or sick. You’re immune.”

Stokes pointed to his empty wrist. “They don’t know that.” He slipped into the car, shut the door and drove off.

It had been, at most fifteen minutes since they saw the caravan of trucks. More than likely that same caravan was stopping in Russell or at least, Stokes thought. He had his phone and placed a call to the Council Woman. He was partly correct. While no trucks filled with people were there, a medical set up had just rolled into town.

They couldn’t be far, Stokes knew the direction. The trucks were moving fast, and at top speed Stokes was certain he’d catch up.

He did. With every intention of following them to the camp, Stokes pulled up close to the last truck, and when he did, he spotted Macy. At first he wondered how he missed her, then he realized he wouldn’t have been looking for her.

She had her head back and sat on the very edge.

“See me, Macy, see me.” He said. Then he beeped his horn. It took several beeps for her to hear, and when she did she turned to look.

Her eyes widened, she was shocked to see him.

Stokes saw her face, bruised and bloody. What had they done to her?

The horn beeping not only caught Macy’s attention, it alerted the convoy and the trucks slowed down.

Stokes did too.

Finally all the trucks came to a halt and before he knew it, a soldier in a gas mask was pointing an assault rifle at his window.

Stokes raised his hands.

The soldier opened the door, still keeping aim.

“Whoa. Hey. Don’t shoot.”

“May I ask what you are doing?” the soldier questioned.

“This is the mandatory quarantine, right?”

“Right.”

“You forgot me.”

“Step out. Leave the keys.”

“Can I grab my bag?”

“Yes.”

Stokes reached to the back seat where he had his pack form his road trip with Albert. He grabbed it and stepped from the car.

“This way,” the soldier instructed.

“Can I go in that one?” Stokes pointed to Macy’s truck. “I know her.”

The soldier opened the back gate. He tossed his bag in and with assistance, climbed inside and took the seat to Macy’s left.

“Stokes. Oh my god.”

He grabbed Macy and embraced her. “I couldn’t let you do this alone.”

He felt her jolt, then shudder a single sob. He held her for a few minutes until the truck moved forward again. He spotted his car parked on the side of the road as they drove on.

“Hey,” Stokes spoke softly. “Who did this to your face?” his eyes shifted down. “And arms. Did they do this to you?”

She shook her head and wiped her eyes. “Clay … Clay got sick. He got violent.”

“Macy, I am so sorry.” He grabbed her hand.

“I am too.”

“I sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”

“But Thomas, Thomas is immune,” she said.

“That’s great news.” Stokes replied acting shocked. He did need to tell her about Thomas and how he had the antidote. What was the point? All that mattered was she knew he was immune.

“I just hope he’ll be okay without me.”

“He will. Wells and Albert they’re good men, they’re there.”

“Aren’t you going back there?” she asked.

“No, I’m going with you.”

“Stokes, they wouldn’t let my son come with me. No immune.”

“They don’t know. They’ll have to test me then kick me out.” Stokes smiled. “Until then, at least I can make sure it’s okay. And if we need to, we can find a way to escape.”

“Why would we escape?”

“Just on the outside chance they are leading us like sheep to be slaughtered.”

“No.” Macy shook her head. “I don’t think they are. I genuinely think they are trying to stop this. And the only way to do it is to keep all the contagious together.”

“We can find a way out. Go somewhere and quarantine you.”

“No,” Macy said. “As much as I want to. No. I’m one small part of a big world. There are people in Littlefield that haven’t left their homes. They’re prisoners because they are at risk for being sick. That’s the way it is in the world. That’s not the way it should be. It’s better that a hundred thousand people are prisoners in quarantine, than a hundred million people dying.”

“It may not be that simple.”

Macy shrugged. “We’ll find out. Simple or not. I’m not dead. I should be. Someone came up with an idea to give me a fighting chance. Now it’s my turn to give someone else a fighting chance.”

Stokes whistled. “You’re a lot nobler than I am.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Macy grabbed his hand. “You jumped on this truck right along with me.”

Things had calmed, they had calmed a lot. When Macy first arrived it was mayhem. People fought and cried. They separated those who were exposed from those who were ill. It took six hours in a long line for Macy and Stokes to register.

He claimed he was sick and under treatment. They didn’t question him, they took blood from him and Macy and assigned them both to the same tent.

One of thousands.

They were spread across the open field for as far as the eye could see. An expedited set up lacking organization. No one knew what exactly their jobs were or what do to.

The first day there were more shooting deaths than ill.

Small riots erupted both inside and outside the fences. There was no food, no water distributed.

Stokes had two bottles of water in his bag and fruit roll ups. He and Macy shared a back corner of their tent and guarded the small bit of food and water like it was gold. She spent a lot of time processing her grief and loss of her son, while staring at his picture and telling stories to Stokes. Stories about their lives. It helped.

A woman kept stressing to remain calm, and that things will be in order.

Macy chose to believe that instead of freaking out like a lot of people.

On the second day, those marked exposed started to show signs of illness. Some died. Some responded to treatment. That was the first sign to Macy that they weren’t indeed huddled together to be slaughtered.

Occasionally though, someone would turn. They went from mild and well to enraged and ill. Like Clay. Those moments were short lived. The person was subdued, and injected in the next with something.

They dropped immediately and were carried out. Somehow Macy knew it wasn’t a sedative or tranquilizer.

The second night, one of the delusional flew into Macy’s tent. Out of control, they threw cots, punched people and did it so quickly there was barely time to react. Before she and Stokes could respond, a team came in, rectified the situation and took the infected out.

A mercy killing.

As wrong as it felt, a part of Macy believed the euthanasia methods were for the good of the infected. Their fate was already sealed, it just sped things up in a more humane and dignified way.

By the third day, though, the fighting stopped. Food had arrived and things were much more organized.

Being able to move freely about their division of camp, gave Macy the ability to see more of what was happening. There was still an influx of people, bodies were taken out at a slower rate and it seemed to be leveling out.

She just wanted to talk to her son. But her phone was dead and there was no way to charge it. Not yet. They promised soon.

The majority of those in the camp wore yellow bracelets. Some would trade theirs in for red. The white bracelets were on workers, and Macy couldn’t recall seeing one on a single camp resident until they came into the tent on the fourth day and handed one to Stokes.

“Don’t know if it was a cold that threw you off,” They handed him the bracelet. “But you’re immune.”

Then they told him he had to leave the camp.

“I think I’ll stay,” Stokes said.

“You can’t. We’re sorry. There’s a truck leaving in five minutes. You can hop a ride on that.” the worker told him. “Soon though, we’ll be finalized, situated and running properly. Immune will be allowed to visit. So don’t lose that bracelet.”

He was left to say his goodbye to Macy.

“Hating to lose you,” Macy said. “I’m glad you’re going. You need to tell Thomas I am all right.”

“I will. I’m sure he’s fine. But I’ll tell you what. I know where this place is, you look for me at that fence behind sector four. I’ll be back in three days to let you know how things are.”

“Things won’t be organized by then.”

“I don’t care. I’ll be here. What are they gonna do, shoot me?”

“Yes.”

“Nah, they won’t.”

“You better go. You heard her that truck leaves in five.”

Stokes nodded. “Keep positive and stay safe. Stay away from everyone. Okay?”

“Yes.”

He reached out, grabbed hold of Macy and hugged her.

“Thank you for all that you’ve done.”

“I didn’t do enough.” Stokes said. “I’m still so sorry for all that you’ve gone through.”

“I’ll make it through. It’s not easy. But I will.”

“I know you will.” Stokes backed up. “See you in three.”

“Wait. Your pack.” She lifted his back pack.

“Keep it. In case you miss me.” He winked and walked out of the tent.

Macy clutched his backpack. She would miss him. He had become her friend in the madness. She waited a minute then left the tent to watch him leave. She didn’t want him to see her, it was easier that way.

Outside, it was different than days earlier. It wasn’t chaotic, people had relaxed and had resolved that it was their fate. They were medicating them and trying different treatments. A once a day pill and one breathing treatment seemed to work as well as two pills and two puffs four times a day.

They wanted to keep them alive if they could, they just didn’t want them to spread the sickness. That made sense to Macy. She just wished she wasn’t so in the dark. What was happening in the world?

She supposed it wouldn’t be in the dark for long. Or at least she hoped.

Every time she heard David cough, she feared her husband was going to slip into an uncontrollable state of the virus. Even though she knew better, even though Nadia knew it was a cold, she still worried. A cough would never be heard the same again by anyone. The treatment for those infected worked. It kept them healthy. But the bottom line was they were still contagious.

That was being dealt with.

The weather had made an abrupt change turning drastically cold and they called for snow. That made Nadia nervous as well. FAA was about to lift the flight ban.

She debated on taking a flight to Washington. It had been a while. After checking on David, Nadia made her way to the lab where her son, David Jr worked diligently.

“Anything on Dad’s test.’

“Still at thirty percent. No matter what we do we can’t get it more than thirty percent viral reduction. Far cry from a cure.”

“Thirty is better than we had last month with twenty. Whose was this?” Nadia asked.

“Dr. Hahn in Sweden.”

“That was our best shot,” Nadia sighed out. “We’ll get there. Keep working.”

“Always.”

Nadia took a seat in front of the computer. She had reports to do. She used her own family as research. David was a guinea pig for any cure they thought they had. Truth was, he was still infected, still contagious.

On a positive note, Nadia had quarantined her three healthy children. When they didn’t show symptoms after three days, she gave them the vaccine.

The vaccine worked. It worked wonderfully. The first large batch went out to rural areas and small cities. In another week, another large batch would go out. It would take time, but within a year, the entire country would be inoculated.

Those who were susceptible would be protected and those still in quarantine would be able to leave. They would be on treatment until a cure was found, but at least they’d not be a danger any longer.

The age old belief in herd immunity didn’t hold true with the cough virus. A person was immune or they weren’t, they got sick or they didn’t. The only guarantee was the inoculation and to ensure it would work, an area had to be infection free for weeks.

Would the country, the world survive another year without the wheel turning as needed?

The statistics were alarming. Nadia and her family were self-sufficient.

But most of the country was not.

Thirty percent were without power, running water, along with law and order.

Ten percent of all cities had been completely abandoned.

Twenty-five percent of all major metropolises were left to fend for themselves. No food deliveries, no police, no medical care.

When the outbreak happened, there were three hundred and ninety million Americans.

At the peak of the outbreak in August, nearly one hundred and forty million Americans lost their lives. From the dust, after the virus stopped taking lives, one third of all human life remained.

There were more dead than living, cities were turned into graveyards and burned to the ground. Nothing ran the way it had. Farming was no longer an industry but a barter system privately run.

Gas prices were over twelve dollars a gallon. No one drove or went anywhere.

No one wanted to, the threat was there.

Death lingered.

Eighty percent of those remaining were still susceptible to the virus. But the source, those infected had been contained. That was what Nadia waited for. All the infected removed, then she could successfully inoculate.

It had reached that point finally, and the process had begun. Until every person in America who needed to be vaccinated was, those in quarantine would remain in quarantine.

How they managed to keep them there was beyond Nadia. Most of the quarantine camps had become their own entities. One thing was certain, they all knew they had to be there, for the betterment of mankind.

Time was of an essence. They needed to get the country back on track, back to normalcy before it had gone too far.

The inoculation was a step in that direction. But Nadia knew there was only one thing that could end it all.

That was a cure.

Eventually there would be one, if it wasn’t too late.

Nadia believed there’d be a cure, someone would find it. A cure was considered a miracle, and for the time being, Nadia still believed miracles existed.

It would happen.

She felt it.

<><><><>